Kenny Rogers, the best person to talk to you right now might be Harry Truman.
But since "Give 'em Hell" Harry is no longer on this side of the grass, you'll have to settle for a lecture from me, starting with this blatant rip-off:
"If you can't stand the glare, son, stay out of the spotlight."
If that sounds condescending, Kenny, I'm sorry, but you need to hear this.
Put another way, you should find a line of work in which he won't have to worry about facing the media. Depending on the outcome of an expected appeal, you're likely to have the better part of a month to contemplate the folly of your run-in last week with two television cameramen and check the want ads.
There are, admittedly, precious few employment opportunities in the seven-figure annual salary range for a 40-year-old man with an anger problem and an extremely limited resume all of which calls for more presidential advice, this time from Ronald Reagan, who once waved newspaper "Help Wanted" ads at reporters asking about the plight of laid-off steelworkers.
That's not to say that some aren't trying to excuse what you did — including, inexplicably enough, some folks in the media. Gerry Fraley of the Dallas Morning News reported in a column the Rangers floated the rumor that the broken finger you sustained in a tirade a couple of weeks ago was an attempt on your part to avoid pitching against the Santa Ana Freeway Angels as one of a number of mitigating circumstances in a scenario that puts a lot of blame on the Rangers.
Fraley's effort at least sheds some light on a previously enigmatic quote from Rangers' general manager John Hart, who told the Associated Press that you said, "My integrity and toughness is being called into question."
But it still doesn't get you off the hook, Kenny. Lots of athletes are having difficult contract negotiations, which leads to rancor between the negotiating teams, but hardly any of the players take it out on the media.
ESPN's Jeremy Schapp, in an episode of "Outside the Lines" immediately after the incident, asked rhetorically, "How much privacy are athletes entitled to?"
Even posing the question in context of the incident, unfairly places blame on the photographers, so let's cut through the euphemisms here. This isn't about a man who has "issues," as Rangers' owner Tom Hicks told the Associated Press.
This is possible misdemeanor assault and destruction of private property, under investigation by the local authorities. And the other two men involved — which includes one whom you sent to the hospital — are your victims.
If you're lucky, you will have to write some large checks to make this go away. If you're unlucky, you could spend 30 or 60 days looking at the inside half of some iron bars.
Either way, I foresee anger management classes in your future.
This isn't like the incident last month when a paparazzo was accused of chasing down and ramming Lindsay Lohan's Mercedes. The victims were two men doing their job in a public place.
Like all other U.S. citizens, professional athletes, and their families, have a right to some degree of privacy in their homes and living their daily lives. But if Schapp's question refers to the amount of privacy athletes should be given on the field and in the locker room, Kenny, the answer is simple:
Zero.
Dealing with the media isn't an intrusion on your job, Ken. It's part of your job. If you pick up nothing else here, understand that.
Here's another rhetorical question. Why do you get paid an obscene salary for throwing a ball past a man with a stick to a third man who, by all appearances, is squatting about 60 feet away to take a dump.
You don't have to answer that — that's what "rhetorical question" means. I know what you're going to tell me anyway. You're going say you get paid what you do because you are one of the best in the world at throwing a ball past a man with a stick past another man to a third man getting ready to fertilize the grass near the backstop.
And you're wrong.
You don't get paid what you do because you are good at throwing a ball past a man with a stick, etc. You get paid what you do because people care about how good you are at throwing a ball past a man with a stick.
If people weren't interested in how well you did your job, there wouldn't be any reporters sniffing around. But there also would be no seven-figure annual salary, adoration from cheering fans, fancy cars, and big houses.
Like a lot of athletes, Kenny, you apparently are happy with fame's perks, but not with its scrutiny.
Those two cameramen might have been in your workplace last week, but you know what? It's their workplace, too.
The fact that they are representing a public that helps pay your salary every time someone buys beer, cars, computers, and financial counseling services — not to mention tickets — gives the media as much right to be there as you have.
If you can't treat the cameramen, photographers, and reporters in a courteous manner, it's your obligation to steer clear of them, not vice-versa.
Or get out of the spotlight.
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